


Ghost Of You.

by drenchedincoloresandgasoline1



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Creepy, Death, Fandom, Fanfic, Gen, GerardWay, Ghosts, MCRmy - Freeform, Music, Paramore - Freeform, Sad, Spooky, my chemical romance - Freeform, mychem, parawhore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drenchedincoloresandgasoline1/pseuds/drenchedincoloresandgasoline1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My other account on here got deleted, which sucks.<br/>Gerard Way is haunted by ghosts.<br/>It started when he was six and he started seeing ghosts for the first time the little guardian ghost girl confirmed that he could see them, and told him not to talk to them and of course he goes against her words and decided to speak to one.<br/>Gerard's tragic story starts when he accidentally kills his baby brother.</p><p>  "They're everywhere.<br/>Imagine living with that, haunted by creatures who are meant to be stories, they're meant to be myths, they're meant to be make-believe, but when, the reality is, they're really real and not some sort of fictional TV character.<br/>Ghost Busters probably can't even help me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Of You.

They're everywhere.  
Imagine living with that, haunted by creatures who are meant to be stories, they're meant to be myths, they're meant to be make-believe, but when, the reality is, they're really real and not some sort of fictional TV character.  
Ghost Busters probably can't even help me.  
I don't know if I'm crazy or not but I live in fear of the fact that I most likely am.  
They say only crazies can see ghosts.  
They don't bother me, I already know for sure I am crazy.  
They try to contact me, I hear their whispers as I pass by on the street.  
Ghosts walking around like normal human beings, ghosts floating through humans that get in the way, ghosts at the bus stop, coffee shop, living in peace thanks to the unsuspecting nonbelievers.  
"Gerard, listen to us."  
"Gerard, help us."  
"Gerard, help me, please. I'm in pain."  
"Gerard, why won't you talk to us?"  
I feel immensely guilty. Sometimes, they have such ///pain/// in their eyes.  
I want to help, I want to but I just can't.  
What can I do?  
It was the little girl.  
She made me swore not to talk to a single ghost or something bad will happen.  
********(A/N: Flashbacks because Italics aren't fucking working for me*******  
I was an unsuspecting six years old.  
I remember just moving into the house.  
It was old and rickety but looked cheery at the same time.  
It was also tiny, obscured mostly from view due to flowers growing in a garden.  
I remember being lonely.  
My brother Mikey left for the afternoon to hang out with friends, something which I had none of.  
I was reading a comic book when I felt the weight on my bed-  
The weight of another person.  
I didn't cry out in alarm, I was too shocked to speak as I stared at her in morbid awe.  
She was adorable, honestly.  
She was dressed in a soft blue dress, her dark hair in pig tails.  
She was probably about four, give or take a few years but the look in her eyes gave away the impression that she was older and smarter beyond her years.  
"Don't speak to me," she whispered, her small childlike voice filled with seriousness.  
Why did she show up, then, if she didn't want to talk to me?  
I huffed in indignation. "Why?"  
"It's dangerous," she was in panic, glancing around herself in clear nervousness that began to rub off to me.  
I decided to obey her.  
Why I don't know, but I did.  
I raise an eyebrow for her to explain herself.  
"They'll destroy you," her brown eyes went wide and she flew- I mean, flew, off the bed and began gliding back and forth around my room, disregarding objects that stood in her way, floating through them instead.  
I was instantly jealous.  
"The ghosts," she explains, the tiny girl wringing her small hands nervously, as if she was saying something she wasn't supposed to.  
Ghosts? Why?  
"You'll figure out why you see them later, but this is a warning. Jacob let me come and tell you that the rest of your life you're going to be seeing ghosts. Right now you're lonely, that's why I appeared. Don't be lonely anymore. That's a weakness for more ghosts to show up. They're out to get you, Gee," she whispered quickly, I had to strain my ears to catch her words.  
Being six I was terrified out of my wits.  
***End Flashback****  
I listened to her warning ever since, minus one time.  
So now I don't talk to ghosts, I'm still scared. I talked one time to a ghost and it was a disaster.  
Why would they ask for help, then want to get me? Everything I love?  
They're seeking help and it's getting too much to bear the weight of all these tortured, dead human beings. Sometimes, they're not so nice.  
I get ghosts that sneer at me, some smoking joints and they're creepy.  
Men that wear trucker caps with big mustaches and the cigar almost falling out of their mouth, they're the ones that are angry. They're ghosts that seek blood and death.  
I want to die.  
Sometimes I just give up.  
I can't tell anyone I see ghosts.  
I don't want to be chucked into the nut house.  
It's their fault my life is ruined.  
All their fault.  
I never even talked to one but apparently they can posses people.  
That happened to me and I unwillingly took my baby brothers life.  
He was 5 years old.  
He had so much planned for him.  
I see him growing up in my mind sometimes.  
A gangly, blank faced kid. Maybe he wore glasses, maybe he'd be able to see, the picture changed every time I imagine the brother I'll never know.  
I want to know what he'd look like fully grown  
If he'd look like me or my mom or my father.  
I want to see him on his first date, and help calm his nerves as he makes himself look nice for a pretty girl.  
Or guy.  
I want to watch him in a church and get married, or go to college and make something of himself, or be someone.  
I want to see him past infancy and have an actual, heart to heart conversation with him.  
I might've even started a band with him.  
But these are things now that can only happen in my mind, and in made up stories because I ruined all those before they even started.  
I destroyed him.  
I took away his future girlfriend.  
I'll never meet her.  
I'll never be an uncle.  
I'll never meet his future children.  
My future nieces and nephews will never have a chance to walk the earth.  
Or... I'll never be anything to anyone because it's all my fault for getting possessed.  
These are also ghosts, but not literal ones.  
Once someone you care about dies they never leave you.  
Haunting you in your own special way.  
It's times like these that all I do with my life is lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.  
My ceiling isn't too interesting.  
Just plain old white.  
White gets mesmerizing after a while, I get trapped in its purity. The ceiling is the epitome of innocence.  
I remember the one time I got possessed by a ghost.  
****FlashBack***  
Once again I was unsuspecting of the dangers.  
I thought the little girl was lying to me.  
Which turned out to be a mistake.  
This ghost that appeared was a 15 year old girl, give or take a few years with bright blue hair and green eyes.  
"Hi," she said, cheerily waving to me, her hand barely visible.  
"Hi," I replied in return, grin spreading ear to ear.  
At this time I felt special, felt cool to be able to talk to ghosts.  
The first and last time I ever felt that talking to ghosts was a good thing.  
I was baby sitting Mikey, he was giggling and bubbling at nothing, and waving his fists in the air.  
He was special ED, you see.  
He had a mental disorder that meant he aged slower than the rest of us, he had the body of a five year old but the speaking skills and brain function of a two year old.  
"Whose this?" She asked, pointing at Mikey.  
"My brother.." I say hesitantly, not sure how much to tell her.  
"I like him. I wish I had him for a brother," she said, nodding in approval, her hair bouncing.  
"I like him, too," I say in agreement, disregarding her latter comment.  
"Can I play with him?" She asked, raising a cool eyebrow for permission.  
I nod once.  
Then that's when it happen.  
Instead of walking towards Mikey, like I expected her too, she walked towards me with a wicked grin.  
"What are you d-doing" I stammered, I was 6 and scared.  
"Playing," she giggled.  
Then I don't know how to word it, she went inside me.  
Having a ghost inside you is weird, it's chilling, it's bone rattling and fucking creepy.  
I wasn't in control of my movements.  
I found myself moving to the knife drawer.  
I needed to stop, I couldn't stop myself from opening the drawer, and picking up the largest steak knife there.  
My baby brother was happily oblivious to the potential danger.  
I walked slowly towards him.  
"Gee!" He cooed, that was the only word he can say.  
"Stop," I commanded the ghost.  
I heard the tinkling, amused laugh again.  
I shut my eyes.  
I feel the knife piercing into flesh and the screams and cries of baby Mikey.  
Then they falter.  
And finally they stop.  
Oh my god, oh my god.  
I opened my eyes again, expecting to see the worst and what happened was, exactly the worst.  
Long gashs where leading down my baby brothers body, bleeding freely.  
His eyes where rolled back in his head and his head was bowed down against his chest, his mouth also cut and bleeding.  
***End FlashBack***  
A fucking toddler, she did this to a fucking toddler.  
To play.  
Because she wanted him.  
And she took him.  
It's not fair.  
I want him back so bad.


End file.
